THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


AUTUMN     WINDS, 


J,    STRICKER    BRADFORD. 


NEW    YORK : 

ROBERT    M.     MALCOLM, 
1878. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1876. 

By   GEORGE   S.   WILCOX, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  Scales  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


THIS   LITTLE   VOLUME 


IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED 


THE  AUTHOR, 


HIS    FRIENDS    OF    EARLY    DAYS. 


PREFACE. 


"  Most  of  these  political  poems  were  published  at  or  about 
their  dates,  in  the  local  papers  of  his  residence. 

"  Deeming  that  now,  when  the  bitterness  engendered  by 
the  war  is  passing  away,  it  becomes  the  duty  of  every  citizen  of 
a  common  country  to  cast  his  drop  of  oil  on  the  waters,  lie 
hopes  that  neither  sectional  feeling  nor  party  prejudice  will  too 
severely  criticise  the  tone  or  merit  of  sincere  expressions  of 
sentiment." 

J.S.B. 

WASHINGTON.  I). .(.'.,  Dec.  i,  iS;6. 


C  O  i\  T  E  NTS. 


PAGE 

AUTUMN  WINDS  13 

A  TEXT  -                                                    15 

NAMKLESS  16 

OLD  VIRGINIA  LAND  -                            18 

ACROSTICS  20,  21 

HYMN  KOR  THE  NATION  22 

MARYLAND  BATTLE  SONG  24 

AN  INVOCATION      -  26 

To  AN  OLD  PORTRAIT  -  •  -                                 28 

CHARADE  (Stone-wall)  30 

A  PRISONER       -  32 

THE  PAST,  PRESENT  AND  FUTURE  OK  1862                         33 

MOUNT  VERNON  34 

ELECTION  ODE        -  -                                                  38 

SPIRIT  LAND      -  .39 

IN  MEMORIAM        -  41 

LINES  TO  A  LADY  -            -        43 

FLOWERS      -  -                                        45 


ro  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

THE  PRAYER  OK  THE  TEMPTED  -        47 

AUTUMN'S  EVE  49 

PARTINGS  51 

WOULD'ST  THOU   FORGET?            -  54 

ERIN  -  -        55 

'  i 

THE  SHIPWRECK  56 

DREAMS  -  -        65 

A  VALENTINE                        -  67 

PASSION  -            -                        -  6<> 

TIME                                       -  71 

CLOUDS  -  73 

IN  ABSENCE  75 

IN  "A.   M's"  Ai.urM     -                         -  77 

A  ^THOUGHT  78 

LINES  OF  THE  "  LONG  AGO"                           -  79 

ENIGMA  (Dam-age)                                        -  80 

CHARADE  (Words-worth)  81 

AN  INDIAN  FUNERAL  IN  MEXICO  83 

WAITIX.:  88 

HOPE  90 

HAPPINESS  92 

COMPENSATION  94 

LINES  WITH  A  RING     -  gf» 

DOUBT  97 

SOLACE    -  98 


CONTENTS. 

THE  SWITCH 

CAUTIONS 

COURAGE 

FORGET  THEE   -  -  - 

PATIENCE    - 

COLUMBUS 

HOPE  ON 

THE  KNELL  OF  TIME  - 

FRAGMENT  No.  i    - 

FRAGMENT  No.  2,  THE  MAY-DAY  PICNIC 

FRAGMENT  No.  3    - 

JANUARY  ist,  1855 


IfHhet;  ifoems. 


AUTUMN    WINDS. 

What  have  the  Autumn  winds  to  tell 

To  the  red  leafed  trees  as  they  sweep  along 

And  vibrate  to  the  rising  swell 

Their  music  makes  in  mournful  song? 

They  sing  the  dirge  of  youthful  days, 

Whose  tints  were  bright  as  the  leaves  they 
bear  ; 

The  saddened  heart  responsive  prays, 
For  another  taste  of  the  joys  that  were. 


i4  AUTUMN  WINDS 

They  tell  the  tale  of  promise  broke, 
Of  Spring-time  gone,  of  Summer  fled 

And  echo  with  the  words  we  spoke 
In  whispers  'ere  our  Spring  was  dead. 

They  sing  the  dirge  of  withered  leaves, 
Of  blighted  faith,  of  broken  trust ; 

They  sing  of  mis-spent  years,  whose  sheaves 
Were  garnered  not,  but  left  to  rust. 


A  TEXT.  15 


A  TEXT. 

**As  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  also  to  them  likewise." 
— Li'Ku,  c.  6  ;  v.  31. 

A  Christian  maxim  that  but  few  men  keep ; 

A  noble  motto  that  should  guide  the  good ; 
The  seed  from  which  we  richest  harvest  reap; 

A  simple  text  we  all  have  understood. 

Were  but  these  words  inscribed  on  every  heart 
To  curb  the  hasty  actions  of  our  lives; 

How  few  would  suffer  from  the  wounds  and  smart 
Of  Conscience,  which  some  selfish  deed  survives. 

How  sweetly  peaceful  would  each  death-bed  be, 
When  in  the  vivid  retrospect  of  years, 

The  wearied  soul    looks  forth  upon  the  sea 
That  breaks  beyond  this  mortal  vale  of  tears. 


16  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


NAMELESS. 

Who  hath  not  felt  a  mystic  dread 

A  nameless  terror  creep, 
Across  his  soul,  as  Memory  fled 
Back  to  the  uncertain  depths  and  spread 

A  pall,  vague, dark  and  deep; 
Portentous  as  of  threatening  ill, 
To  dimly,  indistinctly  fill 

And  in  strange  bondage  keep 
The  pulses  of  the  heart,  as  though 
Some  pre-existent  act  would  throw 

A  shadow  o'er  his  path  ? 
A  simple  word  may  forge  the  chain 
But  mental  effort  is  all  vain 

To  break  the  hold  it  hath  : 
With  vague  pre-science  over-wrought 
And  formless  apprehension  fraught : 

Is  this  the  shade  of  Wrath  ? 


NAMELESS.  17 

Or  of  impending  Woe  the  shade 
By  Premonition's  force  displayed  ? 

Or  some  abnormal  state 
Of  mind,  or  overworking  brain, 
That  poiseless  from  exciting  strain, 

Life's  fantasies  dilate  ? 
Or  from  dark  Chaos  where  the  Past 
Its  terrors  leave,  or  omen's  cast 

By  stern  relentless  Fate  ? 

Mysterious  monitor  you  come 
With  odors  of  the  silent  tomb 

In  ghost-like  warning  grim  : 
The  human  mind  must  bow  to  thee, 
Thou  super-human  mystery — 

Thou  shadow,  pale  and  dim  ! 


1 8  AUTUMN    WINDS. 


OLD    VIRGINIA    LAND.  ('> 

Can'st  thou,  in  lonely  hours  of  night, 
When  absent  from  my  arm  and  love, 

Forget  the  sunshine,  pure  and  bright, 
That  warmed  the  hill-side  and  the  grove 
In  Old  Virginia  Land  ? 

Can'st  thou  forget  how  fondly  then, 
We  oft-times  wander'd  side  by  side, 

And  plucked  the  wild  flowers  in  the  glen, 
Or  watched  the  rippling  brooklet's  tide  — 
In   Old  Virginia   Land  ? 

Can'st  thou  forget  the  evening  shade 
On  the  vine-wreath'd  porch  at  home; 

Or  the  moss-grown  turf  of  the  silent  glade, 
Where  the  Beech-spring  waters  foam  — 
In  Old  Virginia  Land  ? 


OLD  VIRGINIA   LAND.  19 

And  can'st  thou  not,  while  far  away 

Where  Northern  winds  and  skies  are  cold, 

Sometimes  permit  thy  thought  to  stray 
In  memory  to  the  times  of  old  — 
In  Old  Virginia  Land? 


20  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

ACROSTICS. 
I. 

Grant  that  thy  wisdom's  mantle  yet  may  fall, 
Encircling  some  brave  soul  with  saving  might: 

Or  that,  responsive  to  a  Nation's  call, 

Reason  may  dawn  dispersing  faction's  night: 

Grant  that  the  Future  in  our  land  may  be 

Enduring  Union,  Peace  and  Liberty! 

Would  thou  wer't  here,  Sage,  Hero  of  thy  Time; 

Among  dissensions  and  'midst  treasons  rife; 
Secession  standing  on  the  verge  of  crime, 

Her  nervous  sons  too  eager  for  the  strife: 
In  the  dark  train  Dis-Union  comes  — 

North  against  South,  in  armed,  fierce  array: 
Grant  from  our  altars,  and  our  homes, 

This  gathering  storm  may  pass  away. 
Oh  save  thy  country,  if  thy  spirit  can, 
Nor  leave  its  memory  to  the  sneers  of  man. 

BALTIMORE,  Due.  25,  1860. 


ACROSTICS.  21 

II. 

Triumphant  flag,  whose  prestige  gave 
Heaven-born  hopes  to  good  and  brave, 
Exultingly  thy  glories  wave. 

Secession's  hand  thy  folds  would  stain, 
Treason  and  strife  breed  civil  war 
Anarchy  and  crimes  profane. 
Respect  the  compact,  and  maintain, 
Sacred,  every  Stripe  and  Star. 

Are  we  no  longer  Union's  band, 
No  longer  in  her  ranks  to  stand  ? 
Discord's  arm  would  wield  the  brand! 

Saving  Banner,  still  thou'lt  shine, 
To  lead  thy  sons  through  battle  fires; 
Remembrance  of  the  souls  divine 
In  Hero-days,  thy  name  inspires; 
Potent  to  us  as  to  our  sires. 
Eternal,  bright,  on  History's  page,' 
Shall  gleam  thy  stars,  from  age  to  age. 

BALTIMORE,  March  10, 1861. 


AUTUMN  WINDS. 


HYMN 


FOR       T  II  K       NATION 


God  of  Mercy,  guard  and  love  us  ; 
God  of  Justice,  watch  above  us, 

In  Faction's  bondage  strong : 
'Midst  the  dangers  that  surround  us 
Mend  the  band  that  firmly  bound  us, 

And  bound  us  for  so  long. 

Not  as  bands  of  iron  bind  us, 

As,  perforce,  they  had  confined  us; 

Hut  as  with  silken  chain, 
Light  of  weight  and  fair  to  see, 
Firm  of  hold,  but  seeming  free; 

Oh,  make  it  strong  again. 


HYMN.  23 

Not  with  blood,  to  blur  and  stain  it, 
Not  by  War,  can  we  maintain  it ; 

But  Thy  all  helping  hand 
Yet  may  save,  where  mortals  falter; 
Should  we  bend  us  at  Thy  altar 

Will  Thou  not  mend  the  band  ? 

Save  us,  Thou — who  first  did  guide  them, 
Save  us,  Thou — who  stood  beside  them, 

Those  heroes  brave  and  free; 
Let  bands  fraternal  still  unite  us, 
And  Peace,  with  blessings,  still  delight  us, 

While  still  we  bow  to  Thee. 


March  -2.0th,  1861. 


24  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


MARYLAND    BATTLE    SONG.(2) 


Hark,  to  clang  and  crash  of  marching  squadrons  in 

the  street, 
Hark  to  the  martial  music  and  the  measured  tramp 

of  feet ; 
Old    Maryland   is   roused    and  her   sons  in    fierce 

array, 
In  battle-harness  bristling,  stand  eager  for  the  fray. 

For  hearth-stones  and    for  homes,  for  sisters   and 

for  wives, 
For  State-Rights  and  for  honor,  they  stake  their 

names  and  lives ; 
For  the    Hero-days  of  Old,  when  their  dauntless 

Fathers  stood; 
For  North   Point's   battle-field,   and    "McHenry" 

stained  in  blood. 


MARYLAND  BATTLE  SONG.     25 

By  all  these  potent  memories,  to  nerve  our  strong 

right  arms  ; 
By   every    manly   instinct,   that   Southern   courage 

warms  ; 
On   sacred  soil  we  '11  meet   the  foe,  nor  trust  for 

Peace  to  words  — 
But  test  our  rights  as  freemen — at  the  points  of 

gleaming-  swords. 

BALTIMORE,  APKII,  2ist,  1861. 


26  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


AN    INVOCATION. 

Oh,  save    from  fratricidal  strains 

The  hard  right  hands  of  those  who  go, 

With  banded  armies'  bristling  trains 
And  War's  concomitants  of  woe  ; 
Where  Rapine  lurks  and  torches  glow. 

Oh,  stand  in  might  between  the  brave, 
To  curb  their  frenzy  !     Raise  Thy  arm, 

In  mercy,  clothed  with  power  to  save  ! 
Let  Reason  ring  the  first  alarm, 
And  Peace  avert  the  threatening  storm. 

Begin  the  war  — and  for  all  time 
The  record  of  disgrace  shall  stand  ; 

A  glaring  page  of  blood  and  crime, 
A  burning  stain  of  darkest  brand, 
A  blighting  curse  upon  the  land, 


AN   INVOCATION.  27 

A  by-word  of  contempt  with  men ; 

"Fill   marked  throughout  the  world  with 

scorn, 
They  '11  point  in  mock'ry  at  us  then, 

Our  banners  prostrate,  soil'd  and  torn ; 

Of  prestige  robbed,  of  honor  shorn. 

Extend,  Oh  Lord,  thy  saving  arm, 

And  grant  that  Peace  her  wings  expand, 

To  shield  us  from  the  fierce  alarm ; 

Ere  flaming  torch,  and  gleaming  brand 
Shall  desolate  a  once  blest  land. 


ANNAI'OLIS   JAIL,  May  ^6,  ibfii. 

A  PKISONKR  OF  WAR. 


28  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


TO  AN  OLD  PORTRAIT. 


In  dingy  frame  all  dark  with  mould, 

Tho'  stains  and  damp  its  tints  efface, 
A  portrait  —  stern,  and  grim  and  old, 

The  type  of  a  determined  race. 
With  calm  blue  eye,  'neath  wrinkled,  brow 

Where  earnest  thought    wove  lines  of  care 
Deep  furrowed  by  the  driving  plow 

Of  Time,  that  furrows  everywhere. 
With  iron  jaw  and  lip  compressed  ; 

\Vith  ragged  beard,  all  streak'd  with  gray; 
A  noble  face  but  grief  oppressed  — 

A  Puritan  of  Cromwell's  day. 

Say  soldier  of  the  olden  time 

As  now  from  out  thy  rusted  frame 

Thou  lookest  in  this  Western  clime 
On  fratricidal  war  and  shame  ; 


TO  AN  OLD  PORTRAIT. 


29 


Are  these  descendants  cf  thy  stock, 

Who  rule  the  land  with  iron  rod, 
Such  men  as  first  found  Plymouth  Rock, 

And  landed  there  to  worship  God  ? 
Is  this  the  home  where  first  they  raised, 

Their  temples  by  the  sounding  sea; 
Where  first  their  guileless  children  praised 

The  God  who  taught  them  to  be  free  ? 
Are  these,  who  stain  the  South  with  gore 

Regardless  of  the  Wrong  or  Right, 
Descendants  of  those  "men  of  yore," 

Who  braved  a  boasting  tyrant's  might. 

Blush,  Soldier,  in  your  dingy  frame, 

And  pray  that  time  and  damp  may  hide 
Each  feature,  as  is  hid  your  name, 

While  such  inhuman  deeds  abide ; 
And  intercede  before  that  throne, 

Where  Puritans  were  wont  to  bow, 
For  wisdom  —  as  in  old  days  shown  — 

To  those  who  rule  the  nation  now. 


August,  1862. 


AUTUMN  WINDS. 


CHARADE. 


Virginia's  stronghold,  wild  and  steep  ; 
Where  Shenandoah's  waters  leap 

To  join  Potomac's  flood. 
'Neath  craggy  mount,  through  rocky  dell, 
The  River's  rushing  torrents  swell ; 

'T  was  there  my  first  drank  blood 
Of  brethren  slain  —  "  to  save  the  Right." 
Far  better  saved  by  vote  than  fight, 

Though  bravely  both  sides  stood. 

Where  Bull  Run's  sluggish  waters  glide, 
The  rebel  army's  horsemen  ride 

Across  the  battle-field ; 
By  hill,  and  vale,  and  clump  of  wood, 


CHARADE.  31 

In  serried  ranks  batallions  stood, 

Half-hid,  and  half-revealed. 
Behind  my  Second,  close  arrayed, 
With  neither  flag  nor  gun  displayed, 

His  men  were  all  concealed. 
My  whole,  there  gained  the  honored  name 
That  through  the  Valley  blazed  like  flame 

Where'er  his  volleys  pealed. 


32  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


(ON    RECEIVING    FLOWERS    FROM    HOME) 

As  welcome  symbols  of  the  loved  ye  come 
To  cheer  the  gloom  that  hangs  about  this  cell, 

Laden  with  odors  of  the  far-off  home 
The  brown  leafed  shrub,  the  lily's  bell, 
And  crimson  rose,  with  fragrant  smell. 

Fresh  in  your  various  tints  as  when 

Were  first  unfolded  to  the  morning  light, 

On  hill-side  green,  or  in  the  woodland  glen, 
Those  trembling  petals,  rich  and  bright, 
Kn robed  in  purple,  pink  and  white. 

Emblems  of  Hope,  from  her  whose  true  heart 

sends, 
A  love  light  to  his  gloomy  prison's  shade  ; 

Whose  pure  devotion,  to  her  husband  lends 
New  strength*  to  every  firm  resolve  he  made, 
To  wield  in  Sacred  Cause,  a  soldier's  blade. 

ANNAPOLIS  JAIL,  June  2,  1861. 


PAST,  PRESENT,  AND  FUTURE.         33 


PAST,  PRESENT    AND    FUTURE, 

OF    1862. 

In  the  dim  vista  of  the  Past  appears 

A  lengthened  file  in  long  procession's  line ; 

The  hero-statesmen  of  the  by-gone  years 

Whose  noble  names  all  noble  hearts  enshrine. 

Look  to  the  Present,  and  in  contrast  see 
A  Nation's  struggle,  unexcused  by  fame  ; 

A  Nation's  folly,  where  it  should  be  free, 
A  Nation's  discord,  leading  on  to  shame. 

In  the  near  Future —  God  alone  can  tell 

What  record  to  the  world  shall  then  be  shown  ; 

Perchance  the  Union,  that  we  loved  so  well, 
By  frantic  factions  to  the  wild-winds  strown  — 
And    Freedom    crouching    at    some   tyrant's 
throne. 


34  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


MOUNT  VERNON, 

ON  HEARING  THK  STEAMBOAT  BKLL  TOLL  WHILE  PASSING. 

Back  —  ninety  years  on  History's  page, 

And  when  the  Nation's  life  was  young, 
When  men  there  were,  both  brave  and  sage, 

Whose  deeds  and  names  have  since  been  sung. 
Men  of  a  stamp  whose  honor  stands 

In  contrast  to  the  custom  now ; 
Men  of  pure  lives  and  stainless  hands 

With  Truth's  impress  on  heart  and  brow  ; 
One  sacred  name  ''led  all  the  rest :  " 

On  tented  field,  'mid  battle's  brunt, 
Where'ere  the  serried  squadrons  pressed 

His  victor'  helm  was  "at  the  front." 
From  Halls  of  State,  sedate  and  wise, 

In  after  days  when  peace  was  won, 
His  fame  ascended  to  the  skies, 

And  Heaven  had  claimed  its  Washington. 


MOUNT    VERNON.  35 

His  dust  now  lies  beneath  the  mound, 

That  rises  by  Potomac's  Shore ; 
Too  lately  shaken  by  the  sound, 

Of  battle  crash    and  cannon  roar ; 
But  could  that  dust  have  risen  then 

And  have  resumed  his  living  form, 
To  marshal  into  ranks  the  men, 

Whose  peerless  valor  braved  the  storm 
We  would  not  be  what  now  we  are ; 

We  should  not  see  what  since  we've  seen, 
But,  risen  from  successful  war, 

Virginia's  fields  would  all  be  green. 
Virginia's  sons  again  may  shake 

Her  grand  old  banner  to   the  breeze ; 
"  Sic  Semper  "  yet  again  may  wake 

Wild  echoes  over  Southern  leas. 

Toll,  Toll  the  bells, 

As  the  boats  pass  by: 
Toll,  Toll  the  bells, 

For  the  soul  on  high. 


36  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Each  Southern  heart  at  the  solemn  sound, 
Its  homage  yields  to  the  sainted  dead, 

While  mournful  memories  cluster  round 
The  shores  where  patriot  blood  was  shed, 

And  spirits  of  the  good  and  brave 

Who  died  defending  "  Sacred  Right," 
Keep  silent  watch  around  the  grave ; 

And  shadowy  forms  at  dim  twilight 
Of  fair-haired  boys  and  stalwart  men, 

With  tattered  garb  and  hungry  eyes, 
Still  march  by  hill,  and  glade,  and  glen, 

And  gather  there  in  wild  surprise. 
They  guard  the  grave  — They  wait  the  hour 

Their  sons  and  kinsmen  to  inspire, 
When  once  again  in  steadfast  power 

The  Southern  heart  shall  throb  with  fire. 

And  when  in  after  years  the  bell 
Of  passing  steamer  still  shall  toll, 

And  echoes  on  the  breezes  swell 
And  o'er  the  placid  waters  roll, 


MOUNT  VERNON.  37 

The  brave  sons  of  those  martyred  dead 
Shall  bend  in  reverence  at  the  sound, 

For  Time's  soft  radiance  still  shall  shed 
Its  lustre  o'er  that  hallowed  ground. 

SEPTEMBER  4th,  1873. 


38  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


ELECTION    ODE.  *> 

Rouse  for  the  battle,  Freemen  brave  ! 

Your  Country  calls  for  each  man's  aid, 
Rouse,  Freemen  !    by  your  votes  to  save 

The  heritage  your  fathers  gave ; 
In  Wisdom  bought —  by  Valor  paid. 

Rouse  in  your  might !   Let  Honor  stand 
The  beacon  light  to  guide  your  choice  ; 

And  echoes,  over  sea  and  land, 
From  Western  mount  to  Eastern  strand, 

Shall  answer  to  your  voice. 

Triumphant  through  the  land  shall  sweep  - 

To-morrow  —  to  the  end  of  time  — 
The  name  of  him  you  choose  to  keep 
From  factions  dark,  from    treasons    deep, 
That  heritage  sublime. 


SPIRIT  LAND.  39 


SPIRIT  LAND. 

When    Death  shall   sever  earthly  ties 

And  human  forms  decay, 
There  is  a  land  beyond  the  skies, 

Where  happy  spirits  stray. 

There  in  the  realms  where  angels  are, 
Again  our  souls  shall  meet ; 

Beneath  the  gleam  of  many  a  star 
My  soul  thy  soul    shall  greet. 

There,  faithful  to  the  vows  we  made 

With  every  action  free, 
In  spirit  robes  of  light  array'd 

My  love  shall  come  to  me; 

Shall  come,  with  dancing,  joy-lit  eye, 
With  soft,  wide  open  arms  ; 

Shall  come,  in  spirit-ecstasy. 
Clothed  in  immortal  charms. 


40  AUTUMN     WINDS. 

Blest,  as  They  only  there  can  bless, 

In  purified  desire  ; 
Where  every  Spirit-love's  caress 

Burns  with  immortal  fire. 

Why  chafe  at  human  bonds  with  this 
The  promise  to  thy  fate  ? 

Why  mourn  at  present  ills,  if  bliss 
Makes  glad  thy  future  state? 

Bear  with  the  fleeting  pangs  of  earth ; 

Nor  shrink  beneath  the  band  ; 
Thy  solace  is  the  happy  birth 

In  promised  Spirit  Land. 


IN   MEMORIAM,  41 


IN  •  MEMORIAM. 


The  Almighty's  voice  hath  called  thee 
From  paths  where  virtues  shine  ! 

While  mortal  chains  enthrall'd  thee, 
Strong  will  and  power  were  thine ; 

Performing  man's  best  duties 
With  a  faith  almost  divine. 

In  the  Temple's  Halls  a  priest, 
High  Priest,  of  brothers  true  ; 

In  the  battle  where  the  least 
And  the  greatest  looked  to  you 

As  a  warrior  brave  and  noble, 
Whose  faults  in  life  were  few. 

In  manhood's  prime  and  power, 
Grand,  vigorous  and  brave ; 


AUTUMN    WINDS. 

Responsive  in  the  testing  hour 

WhenFriendship's  hand  could  save, 

God  called  you  to  your  home  — 
You  found  it  —  through  the  grave. 

With  drooping,  tearful  eyes, 

Beside  thy  bier  we  stand  ; 
Nor  grief,  nor  human  sighs, 

Can  break  the  endless  band 
Which  Heaven  hath  round  thee  cast, 

And  bound,  with  righteous  hand. 


LINES  TO  A  LADY. 


LINES    TO    A    LADY. 


Like  bright  beams  of  sunshine  illuming  the  moun 
tain, 
When  the  green  robe  of  Summer  is  worn    by   the 

earth, 
Like  spray-drops  that  glisten  and  shine    from  the 

fountain, 
Where  brilliantly  beautiful  colors  have  birth  ; 

Like  sweet   songs    of   birds,   in    the    close    twining 

bowers 

Where  beauty  delights  to  hold  her  parterre, 
Like  delicate  perfumes  from  ruby  lipped  flowers, 
Which  were    culled,  little   lady,  to  braid   in   thy 
hair. 


44  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Like  moonbeams  of  silver  and  gold  softly  blending, 
Where  angel-wing'd  Zephyrs,  with   pinions   out 
spread, 

Float  over  the  edges  of  fleecy  clouds,  ending 
In  the  pure  perfect  blue  of  the  ether  o'erhead  ; 

Is  thy  love  lighted  presence  in  purity  beaming 
With  innocent  mirth  of  the  spirits  sweet  play  ; 

Resistless,  with  womanly  witchery  gleaming 
In  radiant  beauty's  unconscious  array. 

For  genius  shines  in  those  brown  eyes  bright  glances, 
While  Pride  sits  in  state  on  the  classical  brow  ; 

And  the  voice,  in  its  tone  of  persuasion  entrances  — 
Methinks  that  the  echoes  are  vibrating  now. 

In  worth  as  in  beauty,  unrivalled,  unmatched, 
Each  exquisite  feature  adorned  by  a  grace : 

For  the  light  of  a  sunbeam,  in  truant  play  catched, 
Was  stolen  to  linger  and  shine  on  that  face. 


FLOWERS.  45 


FLOWERS. 

(ENCLOSED  FROM  HOME,  TIED  WITH  WIFE'S  HAIR.) 

Wild-wood  Flowers,  of  perfume  sweet, 
Love's  messengers,  my  love  to  greet, 

You  send  me,  "  Katie,"  when  you  write  ' 
Flowers  that  bloomed  beside  the  spring, 

With  waters  dancing  in  the  light ; 
Flowers,  whose  modest  blossoming 

My  darling  to  the  dells  invite. 

Bright  leafed  flowers,  whose  fresh  tints  come 
As  emblems  of  our  joys  at  home  ; 
Pure  in  their  beauties  from  the  hand 

• 

Whose  every  gift  to  man  is  good  ; 

Nursed  by  Spring,  whose  breath  had  funn'd 
With  Zephyrs  soft,  each  hill  and  wood ; 

In  verdure  clad,  where  winter  stood. 


46  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Fragrant  flowers,  of  varied  hue; 
The  modest  violet's  purpled  blue, 

Hearts-ease,  prompting  thoughts  of  love, 
And  lilies,  with  their  drooping  heads, 

As  list'ning  to  bird-songs  above, 
From  where  the  branching  tree-top  spreads: 
And  crimson  woodbine's  slender  threads. 

Tied  with  thy  hair.     Its  ebon  braid, 
Where  oft  and  oft  my  hand  has  laid, 

Now  binds  the  stems  in  close  embrace ; 
And  binds  them,  as  thy  love  binds  me, 

In  bonds  of  beauty,  worth  and  grace  ; 
Bonds,  from  which  I  could  not  be 
By  worlds  of  other  love  set  free. 


PRAYER  OF  THE  TEMPTED.          47 


PRAYER    OF    THE    TEMPTED. 


Oh  heart,  that  loves  too  well, 

Oh  lip,  I  fondly  press, 
Oh  passion's  burning  swell, 

That  comes  with  his  caress ; 
Oh  strange  magnetic  force, 

That  sways  my  yielding  will ; 
Oh  soft,  beguiling  voice, 

Seductive   in  its  thrill; 
Oh  earnest,  truthful  eye, 

Oh  sweet,  enticing  smile, 
Oh  clasp,  in  which  I  lie ; 

Can  love  like  this  be  guile? 

Oh  sin  !  for  by  such  name 

The  world  would  call  these  bonds, 


48  AUTUMN  \\IXDS. 

And  brand  me  with  a  shame 
To  which  my  pride  responds  ; 

Oh  Time  !  hast  thou  no  balm, 
No  solace,  for  such'  pain  ? 

Oh  Storm  !    will  come  no  calm, 
No  freedom  from  this  chain  ? 

Oh  God  !    will  thou  not  hear 

The  prayer  my  heart  sends  up  ? 
Will  not  Thy  mercy  spare 

My  lip,   "this  bitter  cup?" 
Oh  help  me  then  to  crush 

This  wild  entrancing  pain, 
Whose  fatal  surges  rush, 

Resistless  as  the  main, 
Remorseless  as  the  sea, 

With  death  on  ev'ry  wave  ; 
Is  there  no  mortal  plea 

A  sinking  soul  to  save? 


AUTUMN'S  EVE.  49 


AUTUMN'S    EVE. 

Autumn  has  come  with  shadowy  pall, 
With  misty  skies  of  softer  blue, 

With  quivering  leaves,  that  silent  fall, 
Of  Scarlet  tints  and  golden  hue. 

The  western  clouds  still  wear  the  tinge 
That  Summer's  gorgeous  sunsets  wore; 

But  edged  with  borders  of  paler  fringe 
Than  sunset  clouds  of  Summer  bore. 

The  evening  star,  with  calm  cold  light, 
Shines  with  a  clearer,  brighter  beam, 

As  roll  the  deepening  shades  of  night 
In  sombre  folds  o'er  hill  and  stream. 

The  young  moon  sinking  down  to  rest, 
When  days  last  gleam  has  almost  gone  ; 


5o  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

With  chasten'd  glitter  lights  the  west 
Where  sunset's  beauties  lately  shone. 

The  fairest  scene  that  Nature's  brow, 
With  shining  coronet  displays  ; 

Is   Autumn    evening's  fading  glow, 
Adorned  by  crescent  moonlight  rays. 


PARTINGS.  51 


PARTINGS. 


The  ivy  to  the  strong  oak  clings 

With  many  a  twining  tendril's  hold  ; 
While  dense  festoons  in  dark  green  rings 
In  close  embrace  each  branch  enfold. 
Should  lightning  rend  the  rugged  oak. 
The  clinging  ivy  shares  the  stroke : 
So  woman's  pure  devotion  shares 

With  him,  round  whom  her  love's  entwin'd, 
The  joy,  the  sorrow,  and  the  cares 

Which  on  life's  pathway  they  may  find ; 
'Till  death's  rude  hand  the  bond  hath  broke  ; 
More  cruel  than  the  lightning  stroke. 
One  heart  survives  to  suffer  still 

In  grief,  from  bitter  partings  pangs  ; 
Dark  grief,  whose  cup  sad  memories  fill, 
While  o'er  her  soul  a  presence  hangs. 


52  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

The  maiden  when,  with  many  a  sigh, 

She  marks  the  distant  ship  that  bears 
Her  sailor  love,  with  tearful  eye 

And  soul  oppressed  with  doubt  and  fears  ; 
Hath  faith  that,  when  the  year  rolls  round 
Her  conscious  heart  with  joy  will  bound 
In  gladdening  welcome  sweet  and  pure ; 

And  angels  whisper,  in  her  dreams, 
Of  other  joys,  unknown  before, 

Whose  presence  in  his  coming   gleams. 
But  storms,  where  Terrors  rage  and  rave, 
May  sink  that  ship  beneath  the  wave  ; 
And  dreams,  that  tranquil  slumbers  weave, 

Where  Love  and  Hope  bright  promise  shed, 
May  glad  those  slumbers,  to  deceive, 
And  gild  the  pall  that  Fate  hath  spread. 

The  mother,  when  she  gives  her  son 
To  battle  for  his  country's  fame, 

And  stakes  his  life  where  glory  's  won, 
'Mid  sabre-stroke  and  cannon  flame, 
Hopes  with  a  mothers  faith  and  pride. 


PARTINGS.  53 

That,  'mongst  the  great  and  good  and  brave, 
His  name  may  shine  with  bright  names    there, 
If  sacrificed  "  The  Right"  to  save  ; 
And  Heaven-ward  sends  her  trembling  prayer 
That  God  her  noble  boy  will  guard, 
And  bless  her  with  the  sweet  reward 
Again  his  living  form  to  hold 

In  safety  to  her  beating  heart; 
In  conscious  pride  that  brave  and  bold 

He  bore  a  Christian  soldier's  part. 
But  while  her  prayer  ascends  to  God 

His  form  may  welter  on  the  sod ; 
For  forms  as  fair,  and  young,  and  brave, 
Have  filled  a  martyred  soldier's  grave. 


54  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


WOULDST    THOU    FORGET? 

Could  fabled  Lethe's  waters  drown 

The  memory  of  the  by-gone  day, 
And  darkness  o'er  the  Past  be  throv/n, 

Illumined  by  no  single  ray 
Of  all  that  soul-entrancing  time, 

When  first  our  hearts  responsive  beat, 
Like  rich  toned  bells,  at  Easter  chime, 

In  soft  accord,  and  passing  sweet ; 
Wouldst  Thou,  my  love  of  all  those  years, 

The  waters  quaff,  and  thus  forget 
An  image,  that  thy  heart  declares 

Enshrined  in  secret  worship  yet? 
An  image,  bound  by  many  a  chain ; 

A  sainted  idol,  dear  and  blest. 
Oh,  better  far  the  love  retain, 

That  stood  such  hard  abiding  test, 
Than  seek  to  drown  in  Lethe's  wave 

A  tie  that  Time  has  failed  to  sever; 

Which,  destined  to  outlive  the  grave, 

Shall  bloom  in  Spirit  land  forever. 


ERIN.  55 


ERIN. 

There's  an  Isle  in  the  Ocean,  whose  sons  are  as 

brave 

As  the  Heroes  of  Old,  in  whose  fame  we  delight; 
With  hearts  wild  and  free  as  the  foam-crested  wave 
That  breaks  on  her  .shores,  in  its  grandeur  and 
might. 

Where  the  spirit  of  Freedom,  'ere-while  has  been 
nursed, 

Where  the  martyrs  of  Liberty  died  in  their  gore, 
Where  the  tyrants  who  bind  her  will  ever  be  cursed, 

Till  Tyranny  holds  her  in  thraldom  no  more. 

'T  is  the  Green  Isle  of  Erin,  bowed  down  by  the 

might 
Of  the  Sister,  who  rears  her  proud  crest  o'er  the 

sea; 
But  the  glad  day  shall  come,  when  her  sons,  in  the 

fight, 

Shall  have  proved  their  Green  Island  —  The  Isle 
of  the  Free. 


56  AUTUMN     WINDS. 


THE  SHIPWRECK. *> 
I. 

A  stifling  Summer's  noonday  heat 

Glares  on  the  Mart  of  Trade, 
As  earnest  groups  pass  down  a  street 

To  the  docks  where  ships  are  laid  ; 
And  gather  for  a  sad  farewell, 

Perhaps  the  last  in  life, 
To  some,  who  tempting  ocean's  swell, 

'Mid  raging  Stprm-wind's  strife, 
Seek  distant  shores,  for  wealth  and  ease, 
Adown  the  paths  of  the  "  sounding  seas." 

A  proud  ship  at  her  anchor  rides,    . 

Brave  men  throng  her  graceful  sides, 
And  gentle  woman  too  is  there  ; 
Full  many  a  pleading  look  and  prayer 
To  Heaven  ascends;  and  many  a  tear 
On  many  a  cheek  abides. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  57 

II. 

The  whispered  word,  the  smothered  sigh, 

The  touch  of  lips  no  more  to  meet, 
The  love-look  in  the  glistening  eye, 

The  lingering  parting,  sadly  sweet. 
Friends,  Country,  Home,  to  memory  dear, 

When  backward  wandering  thought  will  stray: 
We  leave  them  heart  oppressed  by  fear, 

We  leave  them  —  and  they  pass  away. 

They  pass,  as  down  the  stream  we  glide, 
But  Courage  stems  the  troubled  tide ; 
And  high  before  him  Hope  holds  up, 
With  promise  brimmed,  her  golden  cup ; 
For  Hope  is  Youth's   fair  bride. 


III. 

Out  in  the  stream  !  with  white  sails  bent, 
The  ship  moves  slowly  from  the  land ; 

And  echoing  farewell  shouts  are  sent 
And  many  a  parting  wave  of  hand  — 


AUTUMN    WINDS. 

But  soon  grows  dim  the  distant  shore 

Beneath  the  lingering  sunset's  ray, 
And  homes  now  left  for  ever  more 

Are  fading  with  the  dying  day. 

While  rippling  waves  their  spray  drops  throw, 
All  sparkling  with  reflected  glow, 

The  ship  is  dashing  through  the  sea, 
Her  stalwart  sailors,  bold  and  free, 
Move  on  her  decks  right  merrily  — 
And  joy  is  at  the  flow. 


IV. 

A  clipper  ship,  whose  sharp  lined  prow 

A  wondrous  speed  betokens  well ; 
From  keel  to  capstan,  stern  to  bow, 

All  shaped  in  lines  of  graceful  swell ; 
Her  yards  wide  reach  beyond  her  beams, 

With  snowy  canvass  squarely  spread  ; 
A  living  thing  at  sea  she  seems 

With  light  clouds  floating  overhead. 


THE   SHIPWRECK. 

Her  tall  masts  reaching  up  and  high, 
From  which  her  pennants  proudly  fly 
And  with  the  fleecy  cloud  flakes  flirt; 
With  many  a  strand  of  rigging  girt, 
She  braveth  every  harm  and  hurt 
From  stormy  sea  and  sky. 

V. 

Far  out  upon  the  mighty  deep, 

In  paths  beyond  the  reach  of  aid, 
Where  roaring  billows  grandly  sweep 

Her  beauties  are  displayed  ; 
As  bending  to  the  freshening  gales 

'  Mid  seas  where  gulls  and  dolphins  sport, 
With  freight  of  lives  and  wealth  she  sails, 

For  shores  where  lie  her  destined  port. 

But  soon  the  baffling  breeze  comes  warm 
From  fragrant  flowers  of  graceful  form, 
Its  breath  all  laden  with  perfume 
Of  climes  which  Southern  suns  illume; 
While  lurking  terrors,  dark  with  gloom 
Portend  a  Tropic  storm. 


59 


60  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

VI. 

Upon  her  crowded  decks  a  throng, 

That  counts  at  least  two  hundred  souls: 
To  some  the  weary  voyage  seems  long, 

Some  lounge  and  watch  old  ocean's  rolls, 
Some  bask  beneath  the  sails'  deep  shade 

In  fancy  wandering  far  away. 
Fair  visions  those  —  with  Hope  arrayed 

In  Fortune's  glitter  in  the  distant  day. 

In  contrast  there,  the  men,  her  crew, 
Of  stalwart  forms  —  brave  hearts  and  true  — 
In  Danger's  storm-rocked  cradle  nursed; 
Their  songs  upon  the  sea  air  burst 
Daring  the  winds  to  do  the,ir  worst, 
As  o'er  the  waves  she  flew. 

VII. 

After  a  sun  bright  Tropic  day 

The  shades  of  night  come  down  apace, 

And  cloud  banks  force  their  shadowy  way 
Across  the  far  horizon's  face  ; 


THE    SHIPWRECK.  61 

The  Western  sky,  with  sunset  red, 

Is  gathering  in  a  gloomy  frown, 
'Till  far  and  near  and  over  spread 

A  grayish,  leaden  pail  hangs  down. 

'T  is  calm !   No  sound  disturbs  the  deep, 
No  breezes  o'er  its  surface  sweep, 
No  motion  tells  of  latent  life, 
But  tokens  dark  of  terrors  rife, 
And  omens  of  the  coming  strife 
Are  in  that  treacherous  sleep. 

VIII. 

Now  distant  thunders  low  and  hoarse 

Athwart  the  Firmament  have  passed ; 
The  ship  is  drifting  from  her  course, 

Her  sails  flap  loosely  from  the  mast ; 
And  hearts  that  heretofore  were  bold 

Are  trembling  with  a  nameless  fear, 
As  many  a  shipwreck's  tale  is  told 

To  vibrate  on  the  listener's  ear. 


62  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

While  as  the  threatening  dangers  come 
C'ome  memories  of  the  long-loved  home, 
And  crowding  thoughts,  in  swift  array, 
Of  joys  or  sins  of  the  by-gone  day, 
In  rapid  retrospective  play. 

Flash  like  the  ocean  foain. 

IX. 

Hark,  to  the  wild  resistless  rush 

Of  waters  in  their  noisy  might ; 
And  foam  capped  waves,  with  brilliant  flush 

Of  phosphorescent  rays  of  light. 
Are  gliding  onward,  courser  like, 

With  loose  manes  tossed  erect  and  free, 
And  blasts  of  wind  in  fury  strike 

At  intervals,  the  seething  sea. 

The  clouds  have  gathered  in  the  North  ! 

The  Storm-King  brings  his  chariot  forth  ; 
While  vivid  lightnings  gleam  on  high 
Hiscoursersstart,  with  radiant  eye, 
Before  the  hurricane  they  fly 

Swift  o'er  the  white  sea's  froth. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  63 

X. 

Careening  low  before  the  blast, 

A  ship  all  helpless  in  the  storm  ; 
With  sails  in  tattered  fragments  cast, 

With  strained  and  quivering  form. 
The  Ocean's  frown  grows  darker  yet, 

The  Ocean  demons  claim  their  prey, 
Upon  her  doom  a  seal  is  set, 

Her  guardian  angels  —  where  are  they? 

Go  ask  of  the  loudly  echoing  gale 
That  tore  in  shreds  her  snow  white  sail; 
Or  ask  —  pale  lipped  in  mortal  fear  — 
Of  the  fiends  that  throng  the  stormy  air, 
And  the  answer  —  that  those  echoes  bear 
An  agonizing  wail! 

XI. 

On  dreams  of  home  their  cold  eyes  close ; 
And  the  Shadow  of  Death  in  the 'storm  arose; 

Terribly  stern  for  the  soul  to  see. 
Oh  where  is  the  promise  of  wealth  and  ease; 


64  AUTUMN  WtNDS. 

Oh  where  are  the  hopes  that  Fancy  please  ? 

All  vanished  with  the  mystery 
That  Fate  hath  sunk  in  the  fathomless  seas ! 

For  surging  with  a  rushing  sound, 
The  gallant  ship -a  port  hath  found, 

Near  by  the  Mermaid  caves; 
And  the  Billows,  as  they  sweep  along, 
And  the  Winds,  shall  sing  the  funeral  song 

Above  those  Ocean  graves. 


DREAMS.  65 


DREAMS. 


Do  dreams  portray,  distinct  or  dim, 
Prophetic  scenes  of  joy  or  dread  — 

And  come  they  in  the  guise  of  him, 

Whose  love  is  round  thy  pathway  spread  ? 

If  distant  scenes  of  girl-hood's  day 
Sometimes  thy  peaceful  slumbers  fill, 

And  tones  of  dear  ones,  far  away, 
With  almost  real  distinctness  thrill  — 

If  dream-land's  scenes  sometimes  repeat 
The  ardent  glance,  the  burning  kiss, 

The  firm  tread  of  the  echoing  feet, 

Of  him  with  whom  you  share  your  bliss  — 


66  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Are  all  your  dreams  of  pleasant  shade, 

Of  rosy  hues,  of  happy  hours, 
Of  sunshine,  and  in  light  arrayed; 

Are  all  your  visions  crowned  with  flowers? 

If  some  sad  dream  thy  slumbers  break, 
In  which  a  well-loved  form  is  seen, 

Should  dream-clad  phantoms'  semblance  shake 
Such  faith  as  yours  has  always  been  ? 


A  VALENTIN K.  67 


A   VALENTINE. 

(  WRITTEN    FOR     A     GAY     OLD     FRIEND.) 

Some  twenty  years  or  more  ago, 

When  you  and  I  were  young  and  gay, 
'Mid  wild  New  Hampshire's  hills  of  snow  — 
T  was  on  a  frost  crisped  winter  day, 
That  cuddled  in  a  fur-wrapped  sleigh 

\Ve  worshiped  old  St.  Valentine. 

How  bright  your  eyes,  your  voice  how  low 

And  sweet  to  words  I  whispered  then  ; 

And  how  your  hand  clasp  answered  mine  ; 
Two  votaries  at  Young  Love's  shrine, 
As  we  dashed  gaily  down  the  glen. 

Those  days  were  glad,  and  years   have    flown, 
While  other  joys  our  hearts  have  known. 
And  other  ties  are  round  us  thrown. 


68  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

But  much  I  doubt  if  since  that  ride, 
By  memory  drifted  down  the  tide 
Where  Youth  is  wrecked,  one  single  gleam 
So  bright  has  glistened  o'er  the  stream  ; 
Tho'  surely  Peace  hath  blessed  us  both ; 
And  now  sedately,  I  may  send 
In  lines  where  love  and  honor  blend, 
.Not  emphasized  by  pledge  or  oath, 

A  simple  greeting,  kind  and  pure, 
In  tribute  to  those  "  days  of  yore ;" 
And  pledge  thy  health  in  rich  red  wine, 
My  darling  Old-Time  Valentine. 


PASSION.  69 


PASSION. 


In  human  hearts  wild  passions  blaze 

With  fierce  volcanic  fires; 
While  fervent  Youth  her  bloom  displays 

All  warm  with  soft  desires. 


No  mortal  skill  the  ship  can  save 

Disabled  in  the  storm, 
Where  Ocean's  wild,  resistless  wave 

Engulphs  its  shattered  form. 

No  human  hand  the  silken  car 
Can  guide,  in  mid-air's  path ; 

Relentless  winds,  at  constant  war, 
May  crush  it  in  their  wrath. 


70  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

No  mortal  will  the  dread  decree 
Of  Death  may  turn  aside  ; 

Or  solve  Creation's  mystery, 
That  all  who  lived,  have  died. 

No    human  will  can  passions  tame 
Except  by  faith  and  prayer, 

In  Him  and  to  His  holy  name, 
Who  placed  those  passions  there. 


TIME. 


TIME. 

Time  moves  along 
On  sluggish  wing  ; 

A  mournful  song 
Its  phantoms  sing. 


In  sorrowing  cadence  fall 

The  plaintive  notes  of  woe  ; 
With  strange,  entrancing  thrall 

Its  measured  anthems  flow, 
When  strains  of  pleasures  past, 

Of  hours  of  fleeting  bliss, 
Vibrate,  in  strong  contrast 

To  gloomy  hours,  like  this. 
For  joy  no  more  can  wake 

The  heart  whose  Hopes  lie  dead, 
Or  from  its  banner  shake 

The  dust  which  Time  hath  spread. 


72  AUTUMN    WINDS. 

The  hours  have  left  the  moth 

Where  brilliant  tints  have  been, 
'Till  now,  no  more  the  cloth 

Is  bright  with  gold  and  green, 
Unfurl  the  bannei'  then 

To  find  its  hues  effaced  ; 
Unmask  the  hearts  of  men 

And  see  what  Time  has  traced. 

Time  moves  along 
On  sluggish  wing, 

A  mournful  song 
Its  phantoms  sing. 


CLOUDS.  73 


CLOUDS.  (6) 

The  clouds  upon  their  sky  — 
Separation's  pangs  and  loneliness    to  each  ; 
Nor  doth  their  reason  resignation  teach  ; 
The  hours  of  absence  marked  by  many  a  sigh. 
The  dead  Past's  memories  from  out  the  gloom, 
Rise,  phantom  like  as  from  the  silent  tomb, 
And,  voiceless,  pass  them  by. 

The  clouds  upon  their  hearts  — 
What  was  pleasing  then,  retains  some  freshness  yets 
The  faith  then  pledged,  is  kept  to-day  as  well, 
Still  smile  meets  smile,  still  strange  pulsations 

swell, 
With  ardor  fierce  as  when  in  youth  they  met : 

But  ties  they  dreamed  not  then,  are  woven  now ; 
The  stamp  of  Time  hath  deeply  marked  each 

brow ; 

While  stings  of  Care  have  left  their  burning  smarts 
Will  sunlight  ever  dawn  upon  their  hearts  ? 


74  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Whence  come  these  clouds,  this  storm  ? 
From  Fate's  decree  that  parted  thus   their   lives  — 

Are  they  yet  so  young,  that  Passions  warm 
And  Follies  still  pursue  them  on  their  path, 
To  hang  about  them  in  dark  shapes  of  wrath, 

Against  which  each  too  feebly  strives ; 
For   sins   like  theirs  a  half  repentance  were  in  vain  ; 
.It  would  but  serve  to  forge,  in    stronger   links   the 

chain  — 
Such  clouds  as  these  bring  lightning  with  their  rain  ! 


IN    ABSENCE.  75 


IN    ABSENCE. 


I  am  sad  to-night  and  cursing  fate, 

In  my  chamber,  all  alone  ; 
The  clock  struck  six,  and  seven,  and    eight, 

And  the  dreary  hours  wear  on. 

Silent  and  sad  in  the  dull  cold  room, 

No  smile,  no  touch,  no  sound  ; 
No  loved  one's  presence  to  break  the  gloom 

Of  the  four  white  walls'  chill  bound. 

The  city  noises  all  are  hushed 

Save  the  sound  of  the  fireman's  call, 

And  of  rolling  wheels  as  engines  rushed 
Where  burning  rafters  fall. 


76  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Or  of  some  one  late,  the  heavy  tread, 

Uncertainly  staggering  home, 
With  throbbing  pulse  and  aching  head, 

From  the  wine  cup's  sparkling  foam. 

Or  moaning  wind  in  the  house's  eaves, 

Singing  a  dirge,  perhaps  ; 
Or  stealthy  tread  of  mid-night  thieves, 

Or  spirits  mysterious  raps. 

These  are  the  sounds  which  weave  a  spell, 
Of  gloomy  and  mystical  power ; 

These,  and  the  tongue  of  the  vibrating  bell 
That  is  tolling  the  mid-night  hour. 

Sounds  of  the  night  —  startling  and  wierd  — 
Sounds  that  but  darkness  hath  had  ; 

Sounds  that  the  pinions  of  Silence  have  stirr'd — 
Dreary,  monotonous  sad. 


"A.  M's"  ALBUM.  77 


IN  "A.  M's"  ALBUM. 


As  flows  the  streamlet  to  the  river, 
Laughing  riplets  on  its  face 
In  the  sunlight  dance  and  quiver, 
Ceaseless  in  their  endless  race  ; 
Even  so,  in  charming  grace, 
Maiden  fancies  form  and  flow ; 
Ardent,  truthful,  hopeful,  pure, 
Never  fearing  once  the  river, 
Never  shrinking  from  the    shore. 


78  AUTUMN     WINDS. 


A  THOUGHT. 


Should  life  be  measured  by  years, 
Or  rather  by  what  we  have  seen  ? 

Tho'  snow  with  the  winter  appears, 
The  grass  underneath  may  be  green. 

Doth  passion  with  youth  all  expire, 
Or  rather  lie  dormant  and  tame  ? 

Tho'  ashes  may  smother  the  fire, 
It  waits  but  to  burst  into  flame. 

Why  then  should  we  ever  grow  old, 
Why  mourn  over  joys  that  have  gone, 

If  love  that  we  cherished  grows  cold 
New  love  in  the  morrow  may  dawn. 


LINES  OF  THE  LONG  AGO.  79 


LINES  OF  THE  "LONG  AGO." 


When  morning's  blush  first  gilds  with  rosy  hue, 
Mountain  and  vale  and  Ocean's  breast; 

'Ere  rising  Phoebus'  rays  disperse  the  blue 
Pale  mists  which  on  the  hill  tops  rest; 

Lost  in  reflection  sweet  I  wander  forth, 

To  dream  of  thee  and  muse  upon  thy  worth. 

No  pagan  idol  on  a  Hindoo  shrine, 

Nor  golden  image  of  the  Aztec  creed, 
Receives  such  homage  as  is  justly  thine, 

For  maiden  beauty's  matchless  meed. 
Happy  the  man  on  whom  thy  smile    descends? 

On  only  one  its  tranquil  beams  may  light; 
Where  Youth  to  Love  a  glamor  lends, 

It  charms  to  worship  and  to  pure  delight. 


8o  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


ENIGMA. 


My  first,  is  always  made  to  keep 

The  tide  or  stream  within  due  bound  ; 

My  second,  on  the  rolling  sweep 
Of  everlasting  Time  is  found. 

My  first,  a  safeguard  is,  if  strong; 

Becomes  a  curse  by  adding  "  n  "  ; 
My  second,  feebly  moving  on, 

Is  always  deemed  a  curse  by  men 

My  whole,  if  weak  or  frail  my  first, 

The  consequence  would  be, 
Should  tide,  or  stream,  their  bondage  burst, 

And  sweep  the  fabric  toward  the  sea. 


CHARADE.  81 


CHARADE. 


From  the  first  feeble  lisp  with  which  infancy  strives 
Its  wants  to  express  or  affection  display, 

To  the  time  when  the  Death  Angel's  summons  ar 
rives 
And  the  aims   of  a  lifetime  are  passing  away, 

My  first  must  be  used  by  child  and  by  sage 
In  simple  expression  or  eloquent  speech  ; 

On  the  record  of  progress,  adorning  the  page, 

By   prelates,    expounding    the    creed  that  they 
preach : 

The  learned,  must  use  it  in  prose  and  in  verse, 
The  wicked,  may  use  it  for  purposes  worse. 

My  second  denotes  what  the  honest  and  true 
From  public  opinion  receive  as  their  meed  ; 

A  word  which  when  spoken  as  justly  the  due 
Of  the  good,  is  a  tribute  of  honor  indeed. 


82  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

The  value  of  all  that  we  buy  it  defines ; 

From  the  house  where  we  live  and  the  garments 

we  wear, 
To  the  gold  in  the  mint,  and  the  ore  at  the    mines, 

To  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  the  birds  of  the  air ; 
The  worldly,  must  win  it  by   barter   and   gain, 
The  worthy,  may  win  it  through  hardship  and  pain, 

A  poet's  name  my  whole  discloses, 

Whose  verses  pure  shall  live  through  ages, 

In  lines  so  sweet,  that  Spring's  first  roses 
Seem  scattered  o'er  his  varied  pages. 


AN  INDIAN  FUNERAL.  83 


INDIAN  FUNERAL  IN  MEXICO.^ 


Behind  the  western  mountain's  brow, 
The  wearied  Sun  is  sinking  low 

And  night's  deep  shades 
Will  soon  beneath  her  mantle  hide 
The  distant  village,  steep  hill-side 

And  verdant  glades. 

'Mid  Southern  climes  and  near  a  spring, 
Whose  flower  clad  banks  a  perfume  fling, 

So  soft  and  pure, 
Upon  the  slumbering  evening  air, 
That  tardy  Twilight  lingers  there 

At  Day's  closed  door. 


84  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

A  toil  stained  band  of  rugged  men 
Have  camped  within  the  silent  glen 

Beside  the  stream, 

•Where  moonlight  through  the  foliage  plays, 
'Mid  pale,  dim  stars,  with  fitful  rays 

And  wavering  gleam. 

As  slowly  wear  the  hours  of  night 

Close  by  their  watch-fire's  smothered  light 

They  lay  around, 

Those  wearied  men,  in  slumber  lost, 
While  dreams  —  perchance  of  danger  —  tost 

Their  rest  profound. 

Mayhap  to  some,  down  Memory's  steep 
The  rushing  tide  of  home-thoughts  sweep, 

And  faces  fair, 

With  radiant  smiles  of  greeting  glad. 
In  vision's  joyous  fancies  clad, 

Again  are  near. 


INDIAN  FUNERAL.  85 

Mayhap  of  lovedone's  voice  the  tone 
Across  the  reach  of  Time  is  thrown 

And  softens  sleep  — 

But  Hark!    The  pilgrims'  dreams  are  broke  — 
No  voice  of  loved  one  softly  woke 
Their  slumbers  deep  ; 


But  murmured  sounds  that  gently  move 
The  echoes  of  the  leafy  grove 

Are  borne  along; 

A  saddened  cadence  marks  the  notes, 
In  melancholy  music  floats 

The  dirge-like  song. 


With  slowly  measured,  heavy  tread 
The  funeral  bearers  of  the  dead 

In  gloom  appear, 

Like  phantom  forms  with  gestured  weird, 
And  shrieks  and  shouts,  in  discord  heard, 

Inspiring  fear. 


86  AUTUMN   WINDS. 

Close  'mid  their  ranks  they  bear  the  form 
Of  one  whose  manly  heart  beat  warm 

With  kindred  throes; 
And  march  with  solemn  dirge  and  tear 
And  Pagan  rites  to  guard  his  bier 

To  death's  repose  — 


Of  one  of  noble  Indian  race. 

Who,  sire  and  son,  with  Aztec  race 

Of  royal  blood, 

Their  mighty  ancestry  still  mourn, 
From  splendor  by  the  Spaniard  torn 

Mid'st  fire  and  flood. 


Or,  of  some  maiden,  darkly  bright, 
With  lip  of  coral,  hair  of  night 

And  dusky  hue  ; 
Whose    veins   were   charged  with   blood    too 

warm, 
Whose  heart  had  beat,  in  Passion's  storm, 

With  throb  too  true.     . 


INDIAN    FUNERAL.  87 

Delusion  strange,  their  custom  seems 
Like  fantasies  of  fevered  dreams 

That  darkly  roll ; 

The  frantic  dread  that  demon  force 
May  wrest  away  the  loved  one's  corse, 

May  seize  his  soul ; 


The  mystic  faith  that  shout  and  song, 
Whose  echoes  night  winds  waft  along, 

Will  demons  fright  — 
But  safe  the  form  beneath  the  sod 
The  soul,  reclaimed,  returns  to  God 

In  raiment  bright.     .     . 


In  the  deep  gloom  the  train  moved  on  — 
When  every  measured  tread  had  gone, 

'Mid  Quiet's  reign, 

Beside  their  watch-fire's  smouldering   ray, 
The  weary,  startled  pilgrims  lay 

In  rest  again. 


AUTUMN  WINDS. 


WAITING. 


Waiting  for  Life  —  where  the  germ  has  been  sown 
By  the  boisterous  wind,  on  its  wandering  way: 

The  seed  that  its  pinions  have  scattered  and  strown, 
Tho'  they  spring  into  life,  shall  fade  and  decay. 

Waiting  for  Youth — how  each  boy  counts  the  hours, 
That   yet   must   elapse  'ere   his   childhood   has 
passed ; 

And  anxiously  longing,  in  Fancy,  devours 
The  joyful  fruition  of  manhood's  repast. 

Waiting   for    Love  —  that    his    young   heart    had 
cherished; 

His  visions  of  sleep  had  pictured  its  charms; 
Still  waiting — 'till  Faith  in  its  object  had  perished, 

'Neath  Jealousy's  blight,  or  Inconstancy's  storms. 


WAITING.  89 

Waiting  for  Fame — where  the  war-trumpet's  sound, 
And  the  tramp  of  mailed  squadrons  are  shaking 
the  plain ; 

Where  the  dead  and  the  dying  are  scattered  around, 
And  missiles  fall  thick  as  the  Equinox  rain. 

Waiting  for  Death  —  on  that  stern  field  of  glory; 

And  wounded  to  death,  while  waiting  for  fame ; 
An  exemplified  proof,  that  in  truth  as  in  story, 

The  lustre    reflects,   not  from  deeds,  but  their 
name. 


9o  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


HOPE. 


Of  Hope  and  her  visions  I  write 
While  her  beautiful  wings  unclose, 

With  plumage  effulgently  bright, 

In  a  sort  of  electrical  light, 

Reflected  from  Promise,  its  glows 
With  tints  of  the  couleur  de  rose. 

When  Youth  sends  his  bark  on  the  stream, 
All  freighted  with  joys  that  elate, 

The  after  years  shine  with  a  gleam 

That  defies  the  stern  warnings  of  Fate; 

For  down,  where  the  smooth  current  flows, 

Is  reflected  the  couleur  de  rose. 

When  Sorrows  surround  us  with  shade, 
When  Want  casts  her  mantle  of  gloom, 


HOPE.  91 

When  Friendship  and  Love  are  betrayed 

And  the  heart  looks  for  rest  to  the  tomb, 
Then  Hope  to  the  Future  out-throws 
Her  banner  of  coulcur  de  rose, 

But  should  the  dark  portents  prove  true 
And  Death  come  while  Sorrows  abide, 

In  Heaven's  cerulean  blue 
Our  Hopes  o'er  the  billows  shall  ride: 

And  there  in  that  Land  shall  repose 

That  bloometh  in  couleur  de  rose. 


92  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


HAPPINESS. 


Thou  phantom  Happiness  !     Thou  mortal  boast ! 
Thou    shadow !    men    pursue   through    all   life's 

gloom ; 
Which,  'mongst  the  winding  paths  where  peace  is 

lost, 
Will  best  prepare  thy  pilgrims  for  the  tomb  ? 

Not  thine  unhappy  Love  —  with  faltering  tone, 
And  eye  upturned  to  meet  the  glance  of  her 

Whose  smile  enraptures,  should  its  charm  be  thrown 
On  him,  the  Angel-woman's  worshiper. 

Not  thine  Ambition  —  grasping  lust  for  fame; 

With  deep  marked  foot-prints,  stamped  in  human 

gore; 
And  fading  trophies  scarred  by  crime  and  shame ; 

While  stings  of  conscience  rankle  in  the  sore. 


HAPPINESS.  93 

Nor  Miser,  thine — with  maddening  thirst  for  gold; 

The  one  absorbing  passion  of  thy  brain ; 
Were  thine  such  hoards  as  Croesus  had  of  old, 

There  still  would  rule  the  insatiate  greed  of  gain. 

But    thine,    pure    Christian  —  steadfast,    true    and 
brave ; 

Above  all  selfish  aims  thy  motives  soar; 
With  firm  conviction  in  His  power  to  save  ; 

Nor  wasting  life  on  Love,  nor  Wealth,  nor  War. 

Thine  is  the  goal,  at  which  all  men  have  aimed  ; 

Thine  is  the  boast,  and  thine  the  one  true  road; 
Thine  is  the  charm,  from  mortal  passions  tamed; 

And  thine  is  Happiness  —  through  Faith  in  God. 


94  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


COMPENSATION. 


The  tree  that  bends  before  the  blast, 

Recoils  again  and  stands  upright ; 
And  when  the  Summer  storm  has  passed 

Its  leaves  shall  glitter  in  the  light. 
The  heart  bowed  down  with  grief  to-day, 

To-morrow  may  new   bliss  enjoy  ; 
No  distant  sorrows,  dim  and  gray, 

That  heart's  enchantment  shall  destroy, 
The  storms  of  life,  when  stern  and  dark 

The  Present  to  the  soul  may  seem ; 
(As  on  some  stranded  shipwrecked  bark, 

Adrift  upon  Fate's  tide  or  stream) 
What  though  the  surges  darkly  frown, 

And  o'er  the  shattered  wreck  may  roll, 
For  Mercy,  with  her  shining  crown, 

And  hand  that  grasps  a  stainless  scroll, 


COMPENSATION7.  95 

From  Heaven,  above,  is  looking  down 
To  save  from  wreck  a  human  soul. 

A  legend  on  that  scroll  is  seen, 

Which  since  Creation's  day  hath  stood  ; 

When  first,  'midst  Eden's  groves,  serene, 

The  God  of  Mercy  spake  it — "  Good." 


96      .  AUTUMN     WINDS. 


LINES  WITH    A    RING. 


Accept  this  ring  dear  girl  and  think 

Of  what  was  told  you  long  ago  ; 
The  stone  it  holds  is  topaz  pink 

And  will  become  that  hand  of  snow, 
Refuse  it  not,  for  Fate  decreed 

Thou  should'st  receive  a  golden  token  *, 
So  let  this  little  emblem  plead, 

An  advocate  of  love  unspoken. 


DOUBT.  97 


DOUBT. 

You  say  you  love  me,  yet  you  leave  me  now, 

Alone  and  wearied,  aimless  and  distressed ; 
You,  faithless  to  your  every  pledge  and  vow, 

And  I,  too  constant,  find  you  like  the  rest. 
Some  other  love  may  cheer  your  future  path, 

But  will  that  love  be  half  so  true  as  mine  ? 
And  in  that  future,  will  no  memory's  wrath, 

In  terror,  rise  to  scare  you  from  the  shrine? 
But  when  at  last,  beneath  the  church-yard  sod, 

At  rest  from  all  these  cares,  we  both  shall  lie ; 
And  when  the  record  shall  be  called  by  God, 

And  we  shall  stand  for  judgment  —  You  and  I  — 
Who  at  the  throne  shall  then  seem  least  to  blame 

For  all  these  wrongs  from  which  we  suffer  now  ? 
Who  caused  the  sorrow  —  and  on  whom  the  shame  ? 

Who  then  shall  answer  for  each  broken  vow  ? 
Well !    the  illusion  of  the  dream  has  passed  ; 

The  tasted  joys  are  only  Dead-Sea  fruit ; 
And  'midst  the  darkness  that  this  grief  has  cast 

The  very  pulses  of  my  heart  are  mute. 


98  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


SOLACE. 

Joy  !   for  she  comes,  to  pledge  and  promise  true ; 

The  doubts  were  only  fond  love's  foolish  pain ; 
She  comes  and  tells  me — "  If  I  only  knew 

The  struggles  that  were  made  to  break  the  chain  ; 
The  pangs  they  cost,  the  dreary  sleepless  nights,    . 

The  lonely  days    of   anxious    wearying    thought, 
The  fear,  the  dread  and  then  the  soft  delights 

That  dreams,  persuasive,  sometimes  brought ; 
The  pressing  need  in  some  one  to  confide ; 

The  wish,  that  burned  but  could  not  be  confessed, 
That  ebbed  and  flowed  resistless  as  the  tide, 

By  human  will  too  strong  to  be  repressed  ; 
The  apprehension  that  our  love  was  crushed; 

That  wrong  and  anger  had  its  fervor  chilled  " — 
But  rose-hued  Hope,  with  memory  flushed, 

The  bowl  of  Promise  to  the  brim  has  filled  ; 
And  Love's  red  wine's  intoxicating  draught, 

Shall  add  to  pleasures  and  their  zest  restore ; 
As  when  our  lips  in  mutual  love  first  quaffed 

The  god-like  nectar  she  was  kind  and  true. 


THE  SWITCH. 


THE  SWITCH. 


Said  Harry  to  Jane  one  bright  Summer  day  — 
While  engaged  on  the  lawn  at  a  game  of  croquet 
And  Jane's  little  head  wore  a  chignon  so  grand 
It  had  scarcely  an  equal  for  size  in  the  land  — 
You  '11  doubtless  esteem  me  an  impudent  dog, 
But  why  is  your  head  like  an  old  pedogogue 
Whose  greatest  delights  are  to  teach  and  to  flog, 
Pray  tell  me  my  dear  where  the  likeness  comes  in  ? 
How  the  deuce  should  I  know ;   She  replied  with    a 

grin 

And  a  glance  with  a  glamour  that  savored  of  sin  — 
Well  then  tho'  you   charge   me  with    insolent    non 
sense, 

The  size  of  its  switch  addeth    much    to   its    conse 
quence. 


200  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


CAUTIONS. 

(DURING  THE  GOLD  EXCITEMENT  IN  NEW  YORK  IN    1864.) 

Seek  not  for  wealth  where  gamblers  meet 
On  shaded  side  of  crowded  street, 
Noisy  and  rude,  in  clamorous  greed, 
As  carrion  birds  in  search  of  feed 

U'here  the  battle  has  fiercest  raged  ? 
Kager  and  anxious,  pursuing  the  doom, 
That,  shadow-like,  hangs  about  the  room 
Where  gold  is  bartered  and  fortune  marred, 
More  surely  than  by  dice  or  card 
In  the  fight  with  the  "  Tiger  "  waged. 

Seek  not  for  wealth  where  stocks  are  sold 
At  the  "  call  of  the  Lists  "   -  but  not  for  gold  : 
"  Promoters"  grasp  what  profits  are  made 
And  men  of  mark  are  always  paid 
For  the  prestige  of  their  names  ; 


.       CAUTIONS.  ;  ioi 

Unscrupulous,  sordid,  defrauding  their  friends, 
Degrading  themselves  to  infamous  ends  ! 
What  matter  the  millions  they  dying  may    leav^, 
What  matter  the  wealth  their  heirs    may  receive> 
If  burdened  by  similar  shames  ? 


AUTUMN  WINDS. 


COURAGE. 

Days,  dark  stormy  days  of  gloom  ; 

Nights,  long  sleepless  nights  of  thought ', 
Constant  cares,  that  peace  consume, 

By  every  passing  hour  are  brought, 
Debt,  the  Demon,  clanks  a  chain  ; 

Want,  the  spectre,  standing  near, 
Surrounded  by  a  shadowy  train 

Whose  potent  leader's  name  is  Fear  : 
In  the  distance  angels  hover, 

Rays  of  light  surround  their  forms, 
Before  them  is  a  bridge  that  over 

Courage  strides  and  braves  the  storms; 
Faith  beside  him  keeping  pace,  - 

Cheers  him  where  the  bridge  is  weak, 
And  Hope  beyond,  with  smiling  face, 

But  tears  bedewing  either  cheek, 
Still  beckons  from  the  angel  throng, 

That  Courage  never  once  may  falter ; 
For  though  the  bridge  be  steep  and  long, 

Its  distant  end  is  Hope's  bright  altar. 


FORGET    THEE.  103 


FORGET    THEE. 

Forget  Thee  !    Can  the  Earth  forget  to  bear 
Upon  her  bounteous  bosom's  emerald  fields 
Glad,  golden  harvests  in  return  for  warmth 
Received  from  laughing  Spring's  embrace  ? 

Forget  Thee  !     Can  the  placid  stream  forget 
In  glittering  radiance  back  to  give 
The  beams  upon  her  silvery  surface  cast 
By  the  inconstant  Harvest  moon  ? 

Forget  Thee  ;  Can  the  once  rich  man  forget 
The  wealth,  by  hard,  untiring  toil  obtained, 
And  prized  so  dearly  that  when  it  vanished, 
He  had  well  nigh  died  ?    Who  still  a  weary, 
Feeble,  sad  existence  drags  along, 
In  hope  that  yet  his  nerveless,  palsied  hand 
Again  may  clutch  his  often  counted  gold. 


io4  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Forget  Thee  ?    As  well  the  martyred  saint 
When  agonized  and  dying  at  the  stake, 
With  trembling  hands  upraised?  and  eyes 
To  Heaven  upturned,  forget  to  call 
For  mercy  and  for  strength  upon  his  God! 


PATIENCE..  105 


PATIENCE. 

When  dews  of  night  are  lightly  shed 
Upon  some  fragile  floweret's  head, 

The  stem  beneath  the  dew  will  stand  ; 
But  under  bursts  of  wind  and  rain, 
The  flower  must  break,  nor  rise  again 

When  sunshine  lights  the  land. 

So  trials  when  they  fall  like  dews, 
New  vigor  to  the  heart  infuse, 

Nor  bend,  nor  break  the  stem  ; 
But  falling  'neath  a  storm  of  care, 
And  pressing  round  us  everywhere  ; 

There  is  no  shield  from  them. 

They  bend,  they  bow  us  to  the  ground; 
We  seldom  rise  with  the  rebound, 

Save  by  the  force  of  will, 
Some  'neath  the  storms  of  Life  are  brave 
And  wait  'till  better  fortunes  save  — 

But  some  are  waiting  still. 


106  AUTUMN     WINDS. 


COLUMBUS. 


"  A  Castilla  y  a  Leon, 
Nuevo  Mundo  dio  Colon. 


When  from  the  Conquest  of  Granada  the  Queen  of 
Spain  returned 

And  with  glowing  warlike  ardor  her  knights  and 
soldiers  burned ; 

W'hen  the  realm  of  Moorish  power  by  Spanish  arms 
was  crushed, 

And  through  the  story  famed  Alhambra  the  con 
quering  thousands  rushed  ; 

When  mourned  the  Moorish  Maidens  their  dusky 
lovers  slain, 

And  Christian  knights  were  flushed  with  trophies 
of  the  plain  ; 

When  sad  Boabdil's  jeweled  crown  by  Christian 
hands  was  torn 

From  the  Moslem  chieftain's  brow  where  so  proud 
ly  it  was  worn  ; 

When  the  last  of  Moorish  warriors  had  left  the 
worshiped  shrines  ; 


COLUMBUS.  107 

Where  the    rose    with   jasmin    flowers    in    fragrant 

grace  entwines, 
A  careworn  man,  with    saddened    brow,  to    Isabel 

bent  down, 
With  schemes  of  promised    grandeur  whose    fame 

should  grace  her  crown  ; 

With  tales  of  distant    lands,    where    constant    sun 
shine  glows, 
Where  an  eternal  Spring-time,  its   ripening  verdure 

throws ; 
Where   fruits    of    luscious     sweetness,    the   tropic 

warmths  repay, 
And  birds  of  gorgeous   plumage,   their  feathered 

charms  display  ; 

Where  mines  of  untold  golden  wealth  lie  hid  be 
neath  the  soil  — 

And  brilliant  gems  of  priceless  worth,  are  but  the 
adventurer's  spoil  — 

Beyond  Atlantic's  rolling  tide,  in  the  dim  distance 
conies, 

Before  his  seer-like  vision  a  mighty  Nation's 
homes: 

With  faith  impressed  and  fervor  he  pleads  his 
splendid  scheme, 

Till  Isabel's  proud  heart  believeth  in  his  dream  ; 


io8  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

And  on  her  mind,   in   glory,  breaks  the  dazzling 

future  fame 
That  Time  has  yielded,  treasure-like,    in    homage 

to  her  name  — 
Her   royal  jewels,  prized    and   rich,   were   freely 

pledged  and  sold  — 
The  purchase  of  a  Western  World,  the    Promised 

Land  of  Gold. 


HOPE   ON.  109 


HOPE  ON.(8> 


God  judgeth  for  the  best ; 
Trust  his  wisdom  for  the  rest ; 
Hopeful  hearts  are  always  blest ; 
Hope  On  ! 

God  guards  the  sparrow  as  it  flies, 
And  his  mercy  never  dies  ; 
If  on  him  thy  trust  relies, 

Hope  On  ! 

Be  resigned,  with  humble  heart ; 
Should  he  chasten,  bear  the  smart, 
Of  Christian  duty,  't  is  a  part, 

Hope  On  ! 


TIO  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

If  dark  to-day,  with  grief  and  fear, 
New  light  to-morrow     may  appear; 
Bend  to  God  in  humble  prayer, 
Hope  On  ! 

Should  his  wisdom  deem  it  best 
To  take  him  hence,  to  Heaven  and  rest 
•  Then  thou  'It  know  that  he  is  blest. 
Hope  On  ! 


THE  KNELL  OF  TIME.  in 

THE    KNELL    OF    TIME. 

(MID-NIGHT    OK    THE    OLD    YEAR.) 

Hark  to  the  tolling  bell,  that  wakes  the  stillness  of 

the  night 
With  muffled,  slow-toned  music,  for  the  year  that 's 

taking  flight ; 

Down  in  the  fathomless  depths  of  Time,  'neath  the 
waves  of  the  boundless  sea, 
Its  grave  is  found 
Let  the  bell's  deep  sound 
Its  parting  requiem  be. 

No  mourning  train,  with  solemn  pomp,  its    funeral 

pageant  swells  ;• 
No  mourning   sound  the  silence    breaks,    save    the 

sound  of  tolling  bells  ; 

But  'neath  the  gloom    of  midnight,   the    mourning 
pall  is  spread  ; 

The  hour  hath  flown  ! 
Its  days  are  done  ! 
Another  year  is  dead. 


ii2  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


FRAGMENT    I. 


For  some  have  drank  at  Pleasure's  Spring 
As  though  its  waves  could  care  assuage  ; 

But  Love  a  funeral  dirge  would  sing 

And  Sorrow  snatch  from  Memory's  wing 

A  quill  to  blot  Life's  darkened  page. 


FRAGMENT  II. 


FRAGMENT  II. 

THE     MAY-DAY     PIC-NIC. 

A  quaint  old  house  at  the  top  of  a  hill 

In  the  'midst  of  a  grove  of  grand  old  oaks : 
Behind  are  dense  thickets,  where  song  birds  trill, 

And  in  front  stands  a  cart  with  four  oxen  in  yokes. 
Round  the  house  is  a  porch,  with  low  hanging  eaves, 

With  steps  leading  down  to  a  beautiful  lawn  ; 
And  the  twining  clematis,  with  petals  and  leaves, 

Is  shading  the  porch  that  its  petals  adorn. 

An  hundred  years,  or  more,  hath  stood 

That  quaint  old  house — 'till  bricks  and  wood 

Are  moulded  and  stained  —  'neath  roof  and  eave 

Are  nests  of  bats,  and  spiders  weave 

In  fanciful  webs  their  wonderful  maps; 

Themselves  persuasively  wonderful  chaps 

Whose  principal  business  is  setting  of  traps, 


ii4  AUTUMN   WINDS. 

Where  innocent  flies  may  meet  with  mishaps  — 
Much  like  to  the  traps  gay  gentlemen  set 
And  bait  with  caresses  and  presents  —  "  You  bet  "— 
Some  foolish  young  woman  to  coax  to  a  net. 

Ah  !    many  the  dance  and  wild  carouse, 

When  revels  were  kept  in  the  days  gone  by, 
In  the  halls  of  that  singular  quaint  old  house, 

And  music  and  mirth  were  loud  and  high, 
The  women  were  fair  as  women  are  now  ; 

The  men  were  as  brave,  and  gallant  and  gay  ; 
The  wit  was  as  pungent,  and  joyous  the  flow 

Of  their   pleasures,    as    those    of  their   children 
to-day. 

This  morn,  on  the    porch,    are    three    sunny-faced 
girls, 

As  full  of  their  fun    "  as  an  egg  is  of  meat;" 
Laughing  and  dancing,  and  tossing  their  curls, 

In  a  manner  at  once  both  provoking  and  sweet; 
For  these  girls  are  determined  on  frolic  and  fun, 

Are  bent  on  a  May-day  pic-nic  spree. 


FRAGMENT    II.  115 

And  were  rather  impatiently  waiting  for  one 

Who   comes,   and   is   welcomed   with   boisterous 

glee, 

For  a  marvelous  fellow  at  frolic    is  he, 
He,  and  two  others,  as  beaux  for  the  three. 

They  'd  sent  for  the  cart  and  oxen  four, 
Those  three  bright  girls  at  the  old  house  door: 
And  a  more  exquisite  picture,  I  ween, 
Was  never  before  on  that  old  porch  seen, 
Than  those  three  lasses, 
Of  whom  one  wears  glasses, 
And  of  the  beautiful  trio  is  queen ; 

But  it  must  be  confessed, 
If  it 's  not  so,  I  '11  be  —  blessed, 
That  her  air  is  more  gay  than  serene. 

In  all  your  excursions, 

Or  foolish  diversions, 

Or  among  the  acquaintances  made  in  your  lives, 
Of  maidens,  or  widows,  or  other  men's  wives, 

Have  you  even  met  one, 

Or  desired  to  pet  one, 


n6  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Of  those  singular  creatures 
Whose  eyes  were  near-sighted  ; 
And  rather  delighted 
To  half  close  their  lids 
While  waiting  for  bids, 
Distorting  their  features 

In  a  kind  of  a  half  quizzical, 
Not  at  all  metaphysical 
Sort  of  a  glance, 

Beneath  which  one  almost  drops  off  in  a  trance  — 
Because  if  you  have  you  can  understand  why, 
There's  a  magical  witchery  lurks  in  the  eye 
Of  a  near-sighted  maiden,  sedate  and  so  shy, 
And  withal   at  the  same  time  attractively  sly  — 
So   she,  the   bright   queen    of  the  aforementioned 

lasses, 

To  see  at  all  clearly  was  compelled  to  wear  glasses, 
And  seemed  much  discreeter, 
And  as  decidedly  sweeter, 
As  is  best  golden  syrup  than  common  molasses. 


FRAGMENT  II.  117 

I  neglected  to  say,  in  a  casual  way, 

As  I  should  —  but  my  verses  went  slightly  astray 

The  name  of  this  near-sighted  lady  is  Anna; 

Her  friends  and  respective  associates  Hannah, 

And  darling,  diminutive,  dainty,  Diana. 

But  needing  no  further  description  just  yet 

Than  merely  to  tell 

That  the  last  demoiselle. 

Was  'mongst  her  acquaintances  nick-named  "  The 
Pet." 

I  said  they  'd  been  waiting  expecting  their  beaux, 

And  mentioned  the  gentlemen  too  had  arrived; 
But  some  introduction,  I  rather  suppose, 
Is  requisite  here  if  it  can  be  contrived, 

Of  the  gentlemen  three 

And  especially  he 

Whose  welcome  was  such,  you  might  easily  see 
He  was  cock  of  the  roost  and  a  rara  avis. 

There  was  Charley,  the  beau, 

John,  rather  slow, 
And  Robert,  decidedly  cockney,  "  you  know." 


n8  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Who  dropping  the  "  H  "  in  speaking  to  Hannah, 
T  'was  hard  to  decide  if  he  meant  her  or  Anna. 


Now  Charley,  a  reckless  impetuous  fellow, 

At  fox  hunt  or  dinner, 
Would  sometimes  get  mellow  ; 
Addicted  in  fact  to  commit  any  sell,  or 

Practical  joke  on  foe  or  on  friend, 
With  or  without  either  motive  or  end, 
Was  what  might  be  termed  a  masculine  sinner. 
Rakish  his  air  and  "  devil  may  care," 
I  believe  in  the  French  it    is  termed    debon- 
naire. 

From  the  city  had  come, 
And  had  not  yet  been  home 
From  a  very  equivocal  sort  of  a  party, 
Attractively  made  up  of  girls  and  ecarte  ; 
And  tainted  somewhat  with    baccanal   odor, 
Looked  jaded  and  seedy 
As  though  he  might  need  a 
Matutinal  drink  of  brandy  and  soda. 


FRAGMENT     II.  119 

We  most  of  us  know,  that  after  the   flow 

Of   the    over-night    wine,    be    it    champagne    or 

sherry, 
Has  been   kept   up  'till    morning  in   intercourse 

very 

Delightfully  charming,  just  while  we  were  drinking. 
There  's  a  penance  to  do,  and  a  time  to  go  through 
That's  extremely  distressing,  at  least  while  it's 

new, 
And  decidedly  tends  to  institute  thinking; 

A  personal  penalty  paid  for  abuse, 
And  marked  by  some  such  annoying  sensation 
As  head-ache  or  heart-burn,  of  which  the  relation 
Is  almost  too  much  for  my  muse. 


i2o  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


FRAGMENT  III.     ,9) 


When  night  had  cast  her  mantle  o'er  the  earth, 
And  dreary  darkness  reigned,  as  at  the  birth 
Of  Light,  from  Chaos  and  confusion  sprung; 
And  in  the  welkin  dome  bright  stars  were  hung; 
The  pale  Moon  cast  a  weak  and  sickly  shade, 
As,  scarce  half-formed,  she  strove  to  light  the  glade; 
While  heavenly  quiet  reigned  o'er  all  supreme, 
(Fair  Nature  slumber'd,  and  enjoy'd  her  dream — ) 
A  gloomy  man,  in  restless,  discontented  mood, 
Had  wandered  forth  in  solitude  to  brood 
And  impious  questions  raise  'gainst  God,  who  made, 
In  wondrous  beauty  and  in  peace  array 'd, 
A  world  for  man  and  under  his  control, 
But  formed  him  subject  to  an  immortal  soul. 

'Mid  sins  and  wild  excess  his  life  had  grown 
'Till  shattered  Reason  totter'd  on  her  throne, 


FRAGMENT    III.  121 

Like  some  huge  rock,  which  long  had  stood  secure 
And  firm,  imbedded  in  the  sandy  shore, 
Had  brav'd  the  force  that  fiercest   tempests    flung, 
By  constant  washing  of  the  waves  now  hung 
Almost  without  foundation. 

"Fill  scarcely  human  feeling  stirred  his  breast, 
By  Conscience's  sting  and  dark  Remorse  opprest — 
By  Ghosts  of  buried  sins,  that  crush  and  blast 
The  fairest  hopes  that  Happiness  would  cast 
'Kre  they  could  form  themselves  in  place  — 
'Misfortune's  gloomy  child  he'd  been  from  birth, 
For  Death's  unsparing  hand  had  swept  his  hearth 
Of  relatives  on  whom  he'd  placed 
A  more  than  kindred  love.     So  Sorrow  traced 
With  iron  hand,  upon  his  brow  her  stamp 
Of  care  ;  and  Disappointment's  chilling  damp 
Had  blighted  early  peace. 


122  AUTUMN  WINDS. 


JANUARY   ist,  1855.  (IO) 

A     PROSE     I'OF.M. 

Another  wave  across  the  tide  of  Time 
Has  rolled  !    Another  year  into  the  Past 
Has  glided  by ! 

The  hand  of  Time  but  lightly  touches  those 
Whose  hearts  are  free  from  care.     Time's-footsteps 
Lightly  press  the  soil  where  flowery  verdure 
Springs,  spontaneously,  from  teeming  richness 
Constantly  refreshed  by  good  and  holy  deeds. 
And  yet  Time's  shadows  and  the  frosts  of  care 
A  withering  blight  must  cast.     On  some,  the  mark 
So  faint  as  scarcely  to  be  seen  :  On  some, 
Its  stamp  so  deep,  that,  from  the  moment 
Of  its  printing,  on  each  anxious  face,  the 
World's  keen  eye  can  read,  in  furrow'd  lines, 
The  record  of  a  sorrowing  Past  —  But  rays 
Of  sunlight  and  of  brilliant  Promise  gild 
The  Future  they  illume. 


JANUARY  FIRST  1855.  123 

The  memories  of 

The  buried  year  within  the  hearts  of  all 
Are  shrined.     To  some,  with  disappointments 
And  with  sorrows  clouded  ;  the  cherished 
Hopes,  on  whose  foundations  they  had  in 
Fancy  raised  bright,  air-built  castles  for 
Future  tenements  of  happiness  ;  have 
Vanished,  a*s  before  the  raging  storm  wind's 
Blast  the  morning  mists  are  driven  from  the 
Wooded  mountain  side. 

Nations  in  their  progress,  too,  are  stamped 

By  Time's  impress  ;  and  this  Grand  Old  Year  will, 

Upon  the  page  of  History,  long  be  marked 

As  one  of  great  event. 

While  each  proud  steamer 
Which  old  Ocean  bears  upon  her  heaving 
Bosom  to  our  shores,  is  looked  with 
Anxious  expectation    for,  as  bringing 
Tidings  of  the  stirring  deeds  that  nations 


i24  AUTUMN      WINDS. 

Jn  the  East  are  now  enacting.*     The  test 
Has  come  which  forever  marks  supremacy 
Of  power  'mongst  those  whose  rivalry  so 
Long  has  stood  untried  by  arms.     To  the  "  days 
Of  Old  "  strange  contradiction  this  !     For  then 
The  Cross  against  the  Crescent  was  arrayed ; 
And  now,  the  wondering  West  in  silence  sees 
The  Crescent's  turbaned  warriors  stand 
Beside  the  armies  of  two  Christian  kings, 
In  common  cause  arrayed  against  another 
Christian  Potentate. 

While  in  this  stern 

Relentless  war,  with  its  "  magnificently 
Grand  array  ;"  where  hosts  of  Europe's  mightiest 
Nations  are  engaged  —  while  daring  deeds 
Of  arms  are  done;  before  which  Feudal  valor, 
And  the  storied  deeds  "  of  Old  "  have  faded  - 
While  carnage  strews  the  pleasant  fields  which 
Ere-while  Peace  had  blest  —  While  countless  hordes 
Of  ruthless  men  are  scattering  woe  and 

*The    Crimean    War. 


JANUARY   FIRST,    1855.  125 

Desolation  in  their  path  —  while  weeping 
Mothers  mourn  their  stalwart  sons  destroyed ; 
And  drooping  widows,  helpless  orphans  wait 
In  vain  for  the  return  of  him  whose 
Honest  toil  sustained  them,  or  by  whose 
Smile  their  fireside  was  cheered —  while  all 
The  thousand  ills,  by  war  entailed,  are 
Devastating  Europe's  soil,  our  own  fair 
Land  —  The  land  of  Freedom  and  of  Promise  ! 
The  cherished  heaven  of  the  heart-sick  and 
Oppressed  of  other  lands,  is  teeming  with 
Especial  bounties  from  the  hand  of  God. 

With  golden  harvests  has  our  land  been  blest ; 
Our  peoples'  industry  its  own  reward. 
-Nowar!    No  Famine!    No  anxious  dread  of 
Separation  from    our   fireside   joys,    can 
Fright  us  with  phantom  —  peopled  fears. 
Peace,  with  all  her  blessings,  we  enjoy ! 
Plenty,  as  her  sister,  and  her  hand-maid, 
Comes,  and  smiles  of  Future  Promise 
Shine  upon  our  path. 


126  AUTUMN     WINDS. 

Have  we  no  thirst  for 

Fame  ?  Such  thirst  only  as  the  good  and  free 
Should  have  ;   Not  that  of  conquest  for 
Extended  power,  not  of  the  blood-stained  field, 
Not  of  the  ages  and  the  nations  long 
Passed  by,  not  of  dominion  and  compulsive 
Sway,  where  forced  obedience  to  tyrant 
Power  may  bend  the  common  will  to  bow 
And  cringe  before  the  mandate  of  a  king, 
To  augment  a  Nation's  glory  by  one  man's  fame. 
Ours  the  grander  claim  ;  that  we  ourselves 
Can  rule — And  by  a  People's  virtues  raise 
Our  country's  name  to  such  high  grade,  and  plant 
Our  country's  honor  on  such  firm  base,  that 
After  ages  shall  look  back  upon  our 
Page  of  fame,  to  admire  the  wisdom,  which 
Conceived  the  plan  ;  the  Nation,  whose  firm  will 
Sustained  it. 

Close  in  the  bands  of  brotherhood  are  joined 
The  States  which  form  our  Great  Republic, 
To  their  number  each  year  adds.     Already 
Do  the  waves  of  two  great  oceans  wash 


JANUARY  FIRST,   1855.  127 

Our  shores.     Already  has  our  enterprise, 

Jn  far  less  time  than  infant  colonies 

By  other  nations  are  established, 

Opened   mines  of  countless  golden  wealth 

Upon  the  Western  Ocean's  shores  ;  And 

Already  has  a  proud  and  splendid  city 

Sprung,  Pallas  like,  into  being  at  full  growth. 

New  territory  is  each  day  being  peopled 

And  new  States  are  constantly  laid  out 

Where  but  a  few  years  since,  the  "  foot  of  white  man 

Never  trod."     Even  now,  by  its  roads  of  iron, 

Is  our  Eastern   sea-board  country  girded  ; 

And  the  path  of  progress  is  so  far  advanced 

That  iron  roads,  'ere  many  years  upon 

The'tide  of  Time  have  rolled,  shall  join  the   broad  , 

Atlantic  and  Pacific  Coasts. 

Each  passing  year  its  tribute  yields  to  our 
Prosperity.     The  "  Starry  Flag  "  the  breeze 
Of  every  sea  shakes  out.     Commerce, 
With  bounteous  hand,  is  adding  larger  riches 
To  our  stores.     Wealth  multiplies  ;  and  the 


i2<S  AUTUMN  WINDS. 

Boons  that  she  confers,  of  cultivation 

And  refinement,  are  growing  in  inceased 

Proportion.     Education  is  a  gift 

To  all.     The  children  of  the  poor  and  rich, 

Alike,  enjoy  the  boon  :  and  our  youth 

Have  ever  in  their  view  the  goal  they   may    attain, 

By  industry  and  truth,  of  competence, 

Of  ease,  perhaps  of  fame  and  of  high  station. 

Blest  with  such  bounties  from  the  hand  of  God  — 

Of  peace,  prosperity,  a  teeming  soil, 

Religion,  wealth,  brave  hearts  and  such  liberty 

Of  word  and  deed  as  Freeman  prize,  where 

Liberty  accords  with  Law,  where  can 

Another   land  be  found  so  favored  and 

So  fair  ?  —  The  mystic  stories  of  the  East 

Have  scarcely  pictured  dreams  in  colors 

Bright  as  our  realities. 

And  now,  as  the  old  year  into  the  Past 
Has  glided  by,  and  left  such  record  on 
The  page  of  Time ;  and  as  each  New  Year  is 
Ushered  in  with  promise  such  as  this  one 


JANUARY   FIRST,   1855.  129 

Gilds,  in  brilliant  prestige,  for  our  Nation's 
Glory,  collective  weal  should  compensate 
For  such  misfortunes  and  such  sorrow 
As  some  of  us  have  borne.     And  thankfulness 
To  God  for  boons  we  have,  should  fill  our  hearts 
With  pride  of  Country,  and  with  praise  of  Him; 
Rather  than  crrief,  despair,  or  dark  repining 
At  seeming  ills  which  may  be  shadowed 
For  our  good. 


NOTES. 


NOTE  I. — "  Old  Virginia  Land'' 

Written  in  Baltimore,  in  July  1862,  to  my  wife  then  at  the 
North. 

No  IK   II. — "-Maryland    Battle    -S'.v/-. 

"Nor  trust  for  peace  to  words."  A  compromise  was  made 
on  Sunday,  April  21,  1861,  between  the  Municipal  Authorities 
of  Baltimore  and  the  U.  S.  Government,  by  which  'it  was 
agreed  that  the  troops,  then  at  Cockneysville  on  march  to  the 
Capitol  should  not  pass  through  the  City  of  Baltimore. 


NOTE    III. — ''Election   Ode." 

Written  on  the  day  previous  to  the  Presidential  Election 
in  1856,  on  a  bet  that  I  would,  within  twenty  minutes,  write 
an  "  Election  ( )de,"  which,  without  regard  to  party  would  be 
published  the  next  morning,  in  any  political  paper  in  New 
York  City  to  which  it  might  be  offered. 

The  bet  was  won  and  the  Ode  appeared  in  the  New  York 
Express. 

NOTE   IV. —  "In   M,-int>riani." 

The  author  while  spending  an  evening  with  a  neighbor,  a 
German,  was -requested  by  him  to  versify  his  crudely  expressed 
ideas,  in  memory  of  a  friend  and  countryman,  who  had  died 
of  cholera,  and  from  whose  funeral  he  had  but  then  returned. 

The  deceased  was  highly  respected  and  esteemed  for  many 
noble  traits  of  character  —  was  a  merchant  of  large  wealth, 
and  a  mason  in  high  standing. 


NOTES.  131 


NOTK  V. — "  The  SkipuTeck." 

The  clipper  ship  Fanny  S.   Purley    sailed    from    New    York 
for  San  Francisco  in  1860.      Never  heard  from. 


NOTK  VI. — "C/oftt/s." 
In  answer  to  the  following  lines  by  an  unknown  poet. 

"  A  cloud  upon  the  sky — 

Flowers  close  their  cups,  the  butterfly  his  wing, 
The  restless  birds  all  cease  at  once  to  sing, 
-  The  shivering  leaves  foretell  a  storm  is  nigh  ; 
Let  the  gray  evening  darken  into  night, 
To-morrow's  sun  will  only  shine  more  bright. 
Such  clouds  as  these  pass  by." 

"  A  cloud  upon  the  heart — 

What  pleased  of  late  has  lost  its  charm  to-day  ; 
The  trust  undoubting  seems  misplaced  and  bold  ; 
The  kindly  words  sound  distant,  stiff  and  cold  ; 
The  form  remains,  the  life  has  passed  away  ; 
Each  shrouded  spirit  acts  its  former  part. 
Still  smile  meets  smile,  but  heart  is  far  from  heart. 
Will  this  dark  cloud  depart? 

"  What  wrought  the  clouds  we  mourn  ? 
Was  it  the  truth,  outspoken,  love  should  hide? 
Was  it  some  want  of  reverence  in  playful  mood. 
Some  thought  confided,  and  not  understood, 
Some  promise  broken,  or  some  shock  of  pride? 
Enough  they've  risen — grief  and  tears  were  vain, 
After  this  darkness  and  these  bursts  of  rain. 

Such  clouds  return,   or  shall  remain." 


NOTES. 


XOTK  VI  I. — "  An  Indian  Funeral  in  Mexico." 

On  an  evening  in  the  Spring  of  1850,  when  a  band  of  Cal 
ifornia  emigrants  had  encamped  on  the  outskirts  of  a  village, 
between  Tampico  and  San  Luis  Potosi,  and,  after  a  long  day's 
march,  were  sleeping  by  their  watch  fires,  they  were  aroused 
by  sounds  of  a  large  body  of  men  marching  towards  them, 
singing  a  strange  monotonous  dirge,  accompanied  by  shrieks 
and  shouts  in  chorus. 

After  the  procession  had  passed  their  guide  informed  UK  m 
that  it  was  a  Mexican  Indian  Funeral  ;  and  that  the  shouts 
and  songs  were  incantations  to  keep  off  the  demons,  who 
the  Indians,  in  their  traditional  superstitions,  believed  would 
attempt  to  take  possession  of  the  body  and  soul  of  the  dead. 

NOTE  VIII.— "Hope  On." 

NYritten  for  my  wife,  when  anxious  for  her  father's  safety 
from  shipwreck. 

He  was  drowned  on  January  23,  1867  ;  but  the  fact  was  not 
known  until  a  month  later. 


NOTK  IX — "  Fragment. " 

From  memory,  from  "The  Sceptic/'  a  poem  written  many 
years  ago — MSS.  lost. 

NOTK  X — "January  I,  1855." 

Written  for  a  New  York  weekly.  Mark  the  contrast  of 
this  picture  to  that  of  the  years  of  the  late  civil  war  1861 
to  1865. 


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